


The boy who lived in fear.

by 3am_magic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, But Draco loved Harry since 1st year, Harry hates Draco, Hate to Love, I have way too many feelings, Light Angst, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, PTSD, Slow Burn, slow burn Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3am_magic/pseuds/3am_magic
Summary: After the Hogwarts battle, the peace finally prevailed. All the students and sorcerers of the magical world tried to get back to a normal life, as much as they could.Harry Potter aspired to anonymity and peace.Draco Malfoy aspired to forgiveness and forgetness.What will happen when they will meet again?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. So, we meet again. [Harry]

A brown-haired boy was walking down the streets of London, his deep green eyes paying attention to every small detail. It was the seventh time he has been called to the Ministry of Magic, they were trying to recruit him as an Auror. But even though he was feeling that it was the right path for him, he couldn’t let himself become one. He felt that he would, again, be forced to do what was _right_, not what he wanted. To condemn the people dragged into the wrong path instead of helping them. He would do what anyone always did with him, judge and decide, without letting him speak. Then, he would become like them all. And he never wanted that. But the pressure he was constantly receiving from the Ministry of Magic was hard to live with, and he was starting to think that, maybe, he should do as they wanted, do what people wanted him to do, because he was _the boy who lived_.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his parents or Sirius would have told him. He clenched his hand around his wand, in his pocket. All he wanted was to be able to get advice from his loved ones, but no one seemed to understand, and the only ones who could have were dead. Even Mione told him that he should become an Auror because he was the symbol of a generation, the one who defeated the dark forces. And Harry Potter knew that, and it was another reason why he was so sad because his own life was not really his. It was an object, a symbol, a common property. His existence was here to remind the wizards of the war, of Voldemort, of the fact that they won. But he was tired of all of that. All he wanted was to find a nice job, away from all this frenzy. He has lost so much, he was exhausted. Exhausted of people loving him just because he was breathing, exhausted of people mystifying him, calling him a living legend while he was not perfect, exhausted of people smiling at him, treating him like he was made of glass. He was not a precious little thing that needed to be loved, he needed to be let alone. Not to have his picture in the journal every damn day.

As he was looking around, a bird caught his attention, flying weirdly, he must have been caught by a cat. That was exactly how he was feeling, like a little stupid bird, in the middle of cats, waiting for him to make the smallest move to catch him. So he was standing still, not daring to move, barely breathing. It has been a few years since the war was finished. Two to be exact. But it seemed like the memories would never let him go. And the people would never stop to tell him about it either.

While he was walking, looking at the sky, he felt a body hit his, making him fall, letting a gasp out. He stood quickly back on his feet, running his hand through his hair, making them even messier. Apologizing, he put his eyes on the person he just hit, still on the floor.

“_**I-I am so sorry, I was lost in my thoughts… exc...**_” he stopped, a surprised look on his face. This look on his face, this platinum blonde hair, this cold glare. He seemed as surprised as him. They were both here, staring at each other, not daring to say a word. Harry’s voice seemed to have disappeared, his barely opened lips were trying to let a sound out.

The blonde man noticed the surprised look on the face of the man standing before him. He had a smirk, his slim lips taking the shape of a smile. “_**Potter...**_” He just said as he used to. He seemed to be a little bit different than before, noticed Harry. But the war probably changed him, it changed all of them.

It made the green-eyed man come back to his senses, noticing the muggles looking at them suspiciously. He gave his hand to this man he hated so much. “_**Malfoy.**_” Seeing him made the sorcerer feel a bittersweet feeling. He reminded him of the good times at Hogwarts, but also of the fight, and all the hard times. Especially the hard times.

Once the Slytherin grabbed his hand, he pulled to make him stand on his feet. Clenching his hand around his wrist, he talked to him. “_**We are bringing attention to us, follow me Malfoy.**_” He said it with a colder voice he intended to, but with his old enemy, there was no need to fake it. He dragged him into a smaller street, there, they could talk without being interrupted. His glare over the _death eater_ was only filled with despise and animosity. The Slytherin knew it was easy to read it in his usually laughing green eyes, now cold. And he never intended to hide it, he did not want to. “_**What are you doing here, Malfoy? You should be hiding with your dear friends the death eaters before the Aurors find you all.**_” He was staring at him, perfectly aware that he was being hurtful in purpose. But after all, Draco Malfoy was one of the reasons he suffered so much.

Noticing the look Malfoy slid on his hand, still around Draco’s wrist, Harry hastily let him go. Recovering the usage of his hand, he massaged his wrist distractedly, revealing a red mark left by Potter’s grip. Still avoiding his eyes, he talked with his usual distinguished voice. “_**I know you’re afraid to let me go, Potter, but you didn’t have to grab me that hard, did you?**_”. This little pretentious voice annoyed the Gryffindor more than he would have thought. “_**And why don’t you look at me when you’re speaking, Malfoy?**_” Saying that he grabbed Draco’s chin, making him face Harry, and raise his eyes. “_**Are you afraid?**_” Without moving his face a bit, Draco swiped the savior’s hand off his face, with a disgusted look. But Potter had time to see his cold glaze slide on his lips. “_**Do not touch me, Potter.**_”

A slow smile took place on the brown-haired boy’s face. “_**Oh, really, Malfoy?**_”


	2. An emerald thunderstruck. [Draco]

His face was hidden by the high collar of his long black coat and his blonde hair, they were getting long and he was hating that. He hated the way he resembled his father. He despised him, he did not want to have anything to do with him. The blonde man felt an aching in his left arm, where _the mark_ was. He hated his father to make him live in fear, even today. He was an _arrogant_ yet _confident_ child, and he had grown up into a broken adult. He got nothing left, and all of that was because of Lucius. He hated him with a burning passion. Draco has looked up to his father way too much in the past, no love was left now, only despise towards him. His mother was still here, her. Narcissa has been the only person to fully support Draco, the only one to understand that even if he was on the wrong side, he was as traumatized as all those _good_ Gryffindors. Now, here he was, avoiding the slightest eye contact with any of these muggles, terrified that one of them would be a sorcerer, recognizing his father trough him. His mother has asked him to go live on his own, far from her, since the name of Malfoy was now a disgrace. The cold streets of London were only reminding him of this loneliness, his only companion, ironically.

The man was walking to his small apartment in the center of the town, his head full of flashes and memories. Not a single day was passing by without those memories, twisting his heart. Each time, he was thinking about how he could have done things differently, how he could have not been a coward and stood for what he believed in. But he chose to protect his family, himself. He did believe that the_ dark lord_ was the most powerful amongst all, that no one could defeat him. And he was right. Not a single soul could have defeated him, but many strong souls did. They had the courage he never had, he wished he has. And now, he had lost everything. The only place he felt safe in, he destroyed that safety, he contributed in tearing it to pieces. Hogwarts was forbidden for him now. What was left then? The Malfoy Mansion? He never liked it there, each room had a bad memory attached to it. His apartment? It meant nothing to him. This town? In each and every street he could find a wizard who would recognize him and drag him to the Ministry of Magic. He would never feel safe anywhere in his life, and _it was the price to pay for what he did_.

Clenching his jaw in response to the awful feeling of regret and remorse he was feeling. He drove his glare back to the gray paved floor. _Gray_. It was the only color he was seeing now. Everything was gray, his clothes, his skin, his _mark_, his life. Strangely, he did not want to die, since he struggled so much to stay alive, it would have been unfair to let it go now. So Malfoy was keeping it going, trying his best to find something to grab onto, something to give him a reason to live. Thinking about the journal he has folded into his pocket, he had a bitter smile. What irony was it to think about the person who destroyed your life in that way? It always has been like this, since the first damn day. Why did he felt that? He should have felt disgust, despise, animosity. But all he wanted was to protect that person, to help him. And he did. He lied to the dark lord for him. He put his life in danger, when it was the only thing important to him, for him. But he did not see that. He hated him like everyone else always did.

Lost in his depressing and repetitive thoughts, he did not see the man in front of him coming. Once he was on the floor, he prepared to tell the perturbator to be a little bit more careful, but his words never came out of his mouth. His throat tied, he watched the man in front of him get back on his feet, and start to apologize. Never, in his whole life, he would have thought that he could see him again. He shivered when he felt the emerald green gaze on him. They were now just staring at each other’s faces, a stunned look on their faces. He noticed the shocked face of the man standing in front of him. At least, even if it was hatred, he made him feel something.

The Slytherin smirked slowly. “_**Potter…**_” He was appreciating this sonority in his mouth. He knew that he probably will never pronounce it again. Draco couldn’t help but look at him with a different look than what he used to. He was looking at each detail of his face, so different from the pictures, and so similar at the same time. He almost closed his eyes when he heard his old enemy call him by his name. He has felt so many emotions through his voice, and none of them was positive. But he still felt an irrational joy hearing him pronounce his name. Grabbing the hand that was given to him, he felt the warmth of Potter’s hand under his. He then felt the strong grip of the Gryffindor around his wrist, following the _golden boy_ wherever he dragged him. But the familiar fear took him again. Where were they going? Was Potter bringing him to the Ministry of Magic? He was probably an Auror now.

When they ended up in the alley, he strongly repelled a smile. Maybe, only maybe, he had a chance to live another day free. “What are you doing here, Malfoy? You should be hiding with your dear friends the death eaters before the Aurors find you all.” Hearing that, his heart ached a bit. Even if he knew how the chosen one felt about him, he couldn’t help but expect something else each time. Now, he was torn between the desire to spend more time in this weird company, and the feeling that he should go away, to save himself. The blonde men looked insistently at this hand, around his wrist. Even if he was quite well built, next to Potter, he seemed fragile. After all, it was how he felt. When the sorcerer let him go, he replaced the strong hand with his, trying to erase this damn feeling of emptiness. He answered, hiding behind sarcasm, hinting how he really felt. “I know you’re afraid to let me go, Potter, but you didn’t have to grab me that hard, did you?”

His heart missed a beat when he felt Potter getting closer to him, and the touch of a hand below his chin. He couldn’t help but think about how easy it would be to kiss him now. Shivering at the contact, he resisted biting his lips, it would have given away everything. “_**And why don’t you look at me when you’re speaking, Malfoy? Are you afraid?**_” He did not answer at first. His eyes spending a little second more than they should have on these lips, tempting him to touch them. And then, he looked into the deep green eyes. This was the color he searched all this time. All he tried to find, looking at paintings, flowers, all the beautiful things, it was here, in these eyes looking at him with animosity, but Draco couldn’t wish for anything more beautiful. He knew that if he didn’t turn his look away, he would never. Taking a fake disgusted look, he tore himself away from this contemplation, swiping the soft grip off his face. “_**Do not touch me, Potter.**_” Why did he like to say his name so much? He could not, never. Never could he possess him the way he would like. So why did he have to suffer so much?

“_**Oh, really, Malfoy?**_” The way he said that the face he made the amused look in his eyes. Potter never looked so beautiful in Draco’s eyes. He was so close, but yet inaccessible, filling the Slytherin with frustration. He needed to try making things up. He needed to convince himself that all of this was just a lie he created to himself. But his smile, even if it was not exactly a nice one, created what seemed like a thousand fireworks inside of him. And at the same time, he was left with the hard reality that the boy who lived hated him, with reasons, for all he did. These contradictory feelings put him on the verge of tears. Was he supposed to suffer all his life like this? Because he doubted that he would forget Harry Potter, the one his heart had chosen, even in years.

He responded in a cold and sarcastic voice, but his eyes were screaming otherwise. “_**Yes. The chosen one does not want to get dirtied by touching my oh so rotten self.**_” The most hurtful in this was not only what Draco has said about himself, but it was also that he believed every word that just came out of his mouth. He was standing there, looking into the eyes of this person he loved so much, and that hated him so bad.

And he did not understand why the brown-haired men frowned, seeming to disagree with him, his eyes so serious but his voice still amused. “_**Where is the arrogant Malfoy I know?**_” Draco, quickly noticed when he talked that he did not step away. He was still close to him, and if he wanted to, he could bring him even clos... no. Annoyed by himself, he looked up, slightly opening his lips to let a sight out. “_**Forget him, Potter, he is dead.**_” Looking again into his eyes he loved so much, he grabbed all his courage to ask him.

“_**So, what do you want to do now?**_”

He was not moving the slightest bit, afraid of the answer. The confused look on Potter’s face did not help him to relax. “_**Do what, Malfoy?**_” The blonde-haired boy rolled his eyes again. “_**No, Potter, you just grabbed an ex-death eater, what are you going to do? Bring me to your friends at the ministry of magic, like the good little Auror that you are?**_” Harry seemed to think about what Draco just said. What if he did? What would happen to him next? Draco was looking at him, terrified, biting his lips to grab something. “_**No.**_” The sound surprised him. “_**What… no?**_” Harry looked again into Draco’s eyes, making him shiver again. “_**I am not an Auror, and I will not bring you to the Ministry of Magic.**_” Now, the blonde men had lost his voice. He was just standing there, his lips open of surprise. “_**H-how?**_”

Harry Potter smirked. Draco thought that he must have had an idea, to look so confident all of a sudden. “_**You are going to show me that you really regret what you did. Show me where you live. Now, consider that you are not free, you are on probation. Make the slightest error, and I will bring you to Azkaban. But if you prove to me that you want to get your life back, I will help you, Malfoy.**_” The Slytherin was analyzing his face, trying to find the lie in it. But he seemed sincere. “_**Thank you, Potter.**_” His voice broke on his name, but he couldn’t care less, maybe he will live a little bit, just a little bit more.

Bringing his gaze back to the floor, looking at their feet, standing so close to one another, he murmured in a sight. “_**Why are you giving me hope, Potter?**_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think is going to happen next ?


	3. Torments. [Harry]

Harry could not hear what Draco said, but he was able to see the trouble in his eyes. Noticing how close he was from his old enemy, he stepped back, without noticing the point of disappointment in Malfoy’s eyes. The distance felt safe. Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his long brown coat. They were almost dressed the same, that could have been funny if it did not disturb Harry so much. He could feel the tension between them, the same that has always existed but slightly different now. Maybe it was because of Malfoy, maybe it was because of Harry. He couldn’t know, but he felt that something has changed. And it was making him prodigiously annoyed. Cutting the moment, he decided to move. He felt trapped in this little alley, he needed air, he needed to walk away and not to stay alone with his old enemy.

“_**Show me where you live Malfoy.**_” The Slytherin raised his eyes, looking back to Harry. He had a glare in his eyes that the chosen one could not define. But it was troubling him. A lot. When the blonde-haired man walked past him in the alley, his eyes focused in the street ahead of them, he felt frustrated. Why? Why did he felt so frustrated… So he was standing there, without moving, trying to figure out why he was feeling this tornado of weird and negative feelings. But when Draco turned around to look at him, raising one of his eyebrows, his frustration instantly disappeared. “_**Are you coming, Potter? I don’t have the whole day.**_”

_Fuck_.

“_**Yes Malfoy, I’m following you, show me the path.**_” He used his most sarcastic voice, trying to seem unbothered. As he was following him in the crowded street, he was thinking. It was probably because he had almost forgotten him, or at least tried to. All the negative memories linked to Malfoy were coming back He clenched his hands into fists, hidden into the large coat. None of them were saying a single word. Harry noticed the way Malfoy was avoiding the peasants effortlessly, revealing how much he was used to avoiding everyone. To cut the uncomfortable silence, Harry spoke. “_**It is quite weird to choose London as a hiding place, don’t you think?**_” Malfoy shrugged, thinking about what the golden boy has just said. “_**Not really, I am hiding in bright light, where people are the least likely to look for me.**_” Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised by how Malfoy was thinking. It was funny to see how he was following the same path as his father. Faking a normal life, despite all he had done. How could Harry not hate such a person? It was just impossible. _I can’t wait for us to go partway,_ he thought. His presence was making him uncomfortable.

  
  


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The street Malfoy lived in was small, filled with humidity and dark. Harry thought immediately about a trap. After all, even if Malfoy seemed to regret what he did, maybe he was _faking _it. He could. He always did. Harry used to think of him as the best manipulator and dissimulator he has always seen. He managed to fool Dumbledore himself, the professors, Harry, and all his comrades. Who would have thought that he was a Death Eater? Who would have thought he would betray them all and kill Dumbledore? No one. As he was walking, he let Malfoy lead the way, grabbing his wand in his pocket, just in case. “_**This is where I live.**_” His voice seemed tired, different than what it sounded like a few minutes ago. But since they were both lost in their thoughts, Harry imagined that he must have been remembering some uneasy memories too. “_**Not bad, Malfoy, it **__**looks**__** just like you.**_” Malfoy had a bitter laugh, ironical. “_**Seems like you’ve learned**__** how to be funny, Potter.**_” He did not even bother to answer properly. “_**Hm…**_” He said, taking a small notebook and a pen out of his pocket. He took note of the name of the street, as well as the number written with dark paint over the old blue metal door. He could see what the door was made of because the paint was falling out of it, probably due to the humidity. “_**Now, I know where you live. You better not escape, or I will track you down and you will end up in Azkaban with your dear father. Understood?**_” As he talked, he looked at Malfoy’s face, seeing his jaw clench at the evocation of his father. “_**I’d rather you**__**kill me, Potter, than ending up in front of my father again.**_” That said, he turned around, putting the key in the door to open it. “_**Have a nice day Potter.**_” And the door slammed, leaving Harry alone in the street. Still facing the door, he made a few steps back before turning around and going back to the main street. He was walking angrily in the street, the sound of his footsteps slamming on the pavement.

  
  


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Back to the building his apartment was located in, he climbs up the stairs quickly, feeling incapable to hold back his feelings. As soon as the door slammed shut, he almost ran to his office, closing the door behind him. This was the only room he was allowing himself to feel weak into. He has designed it to feel safe, to feel unbreakable, and Harry did not want to let his awfully dark feelings contaminate the other rooms. Walking to his desk he swiped the surface with his arm, making objects smash onto the floor, the vase exploding and splashing the papers with water. “_**WHY?**_” He screamed. “_**WHY DO I NEED TO SEE HIM AGAIN? IT’S ALL HIS FAULT!**_” He was gasping for air, the anger strangling him. “_**Why…**_” It was a groan. Looking around him, at the mess he just created, the destruction, the pieces of glass, illustrating how he was feeling. He felt just like this vase. Teared up to pieces, not being able to collect feelings anymore, as this vase could never hold water again. And he did it to himself. With the way, he lived his life. The way he started it. The way he chose to cope with his trauma. “_**Why did I met him…**_” He was thinking about their first meeting, when he was still innocent, sort of. He was thinking about all the times they encountered, at Hogwarts, in Diagon Alley. About today. He fell to the ground, his legs becoming weak. All the memories he was trying to hold back every day were hitting him. All the loved ones he lost. All the friends who got hurt. All the wizards impacted by this story. He could not blame everything on Malfoy, of course, but he was feeling so much anger towards him. Because he had made all the wrong choices. Because if it would not have been for him, Dumbledore would have been there, helping Harry. But now, there were only memories. And Harry could only suffer, alone. He did not want to talk about this to his friends, why bother? It was irreparable.

Harry stayed there, on the floor, thinking. A few hours got by. How many? It was hard to tell. But when he got up, still wearing his coat, his face showed no emotion, no expression. The moon was up in the sky and the darkness of the night had nothing comforting this time. Harry felt empty. He wondered if crying would make him feel better. But he doubted it would. How would he know? He never cried again since the end of the battle. Not feeling the need to. It was reassuring feeling the sensation of oppression. At least he was _feeling._

He got back on his feet. Walking to the kitchen, he let his coat fall on the sofa when he was near. He opened a cabinet, taking a glass. The metal faucet creaked when he opened it to fill his glass. He drank it without any noise, his eyes fixated on something far away, way further than anyone could ever see.

  
  


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His phone buzzed. A name was written on the screen. _Hermione._ Without even reading the message, Harry knew what it would be about.

“_**Hello, Harry, Ron and I are worried about you. It has been three weeks since we have not heard from you. Since you seem not willing to answer my messages, we will come to visit you tonight. See you at seven. Hermione (who is NOT happy)**_”

Harry had a small smile. The first sincere one for weeks. Tapping on the message, he answered, he knew that if he left her on read, she would probably storm into his apartment immediately.

“_**I am sorry Mione, some unexpected things happened. I will be happy to see you both tonight. Love, Harry.**_”

Leaving his phone on the couch, he woke up and walked into the bathroom. Hermione’s message has cut him into his work, but he was struggling to focus anyways. Since he encountered Draco in the streets, he has started to look for any clue about the existence of other Death Eaters. But an ethical question kept bothering him. If he found other followers of Voldemort he would report them to the Ministry of Magic. But then, he probably should report Malfoy too. But he did not want to. He wanted the wizard to be at his mercy. He wanted to make him pay, to make him truly regret what he did. He wanted to turn his life into a nightmare. At least… It was what he tried to convince himself of. But all he wanted, truly, were answers. He would never be able to hurt him on purpose. He even saved his life during the battle. Would he like him to feel all that Harry felt himself? No. He could never wish that, even to his worse enemy. What Sirius told him popped in his mind. “_**Harry, you are not a bad person.**_” Looking at his scar in the mirror, he talked with a strangled voice. “_**If I am not a bad person, I am a stupid one.**_”

Stepping into the shower, he let the warm water relax his muscles. The liquid hugging him, he lowered his shoulders, letting a sight out. “_**I am so tired.**_” Every day, he was avoiding the journalists, desperate for a picture of him to the point they were coming into the Muggle’s world. Every day, the Ministry of Magic was trying to recruit him and every day he had to refuse. Every day he was recognized in the streets and every day he had to walk away. He was tired to the point he has no energy to even answer all the messages his friends left him on his phone. He felt trapped, trapped in his skin. Being who he was, even his name felt like it was not belonging to him. “_**Harry Potter!**_” He said, imitating the voice of the women that had recognized him this morning. His name, or all the dumb ways people had to call him, it was unbearable now. _Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One… How would they feel if they knew that what described me the best was “The Boy Who Was Tired Of Living”?_ If it was not for his parents, he would not be there today. He would probably have died, alone, giving up. Almost every day, he felt like he could not take one more day. He felt like it was the end, that he reached his peak, that it was time. Even sleeping was terrifying. Every time he would close his eyes, he would see Voldemort, laughing. He touched his scar, still surprised that it was not aching anymore.

  
  


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A few hours later, Harry heard someone knocking at his door. When he opened it, he felt a body jumping on him, so fast that he did not see who it was. “_**By Merlin, Harry! I was so afraid! It has been three weeks, at first we thought that you were only busy, but then we feared that something would have happened to you!**_” The redhead was still standing in the entrance, an amused smile on his face. He knew that the girl that has just stormed in was unstoppable and that Harry will have to be very careful to calm her. “_**Hello, Mione. Hello Ron.**_” Said Harry. He was so happy to see them. They were the only people he could see that did not make him think about the dark times at Hogwarts, only the good ones.

They spent hours talking and drinking in Harry’s living room. He chose not to talk to them about Draco. He wanted to keep it a secret without any valid reason. He felt like home. His friends were everything to him, they were there for the good times, but also the bad ones. The believed him when no one else did and they followed him always without hesitating. He was truly grateful to have them in his life. All night long, he smiled without faking it, laughing with sincerity at the jokes Ron was making. Hermione told him stories about her work, passionate as always.

When it was time for them to go, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand. “_**Harry, please, do not leave us without news. Please.**_” He has smiled and responded calmly. “_**I promise Mione.**_” Hermione and Ron hugged Harry and disappeared with a strong “_**Portus!**_”. Sitting on his couch, Harry’s head was spinning. _I’m drunk… _He closed his eyes. He was probably more tired than what he expected, the alcohol had more effect on him this time.

  
  


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He was, for the second time, in front of the old blue door. Without even thinking about it, he had decided to have a walk in the streets, trying to evacuate the alcohol. It seemed like a good idea, but he did not realize where his steps were leading him. He was not thinking straight. His head was spinning and the cold of the night around him, even if it was freezing his fingers, left him unbothered. Hitting the door with his fist once, he did it again, and again, and again. For the first time for years, he was letting out his feelings, shouting all his anger in the only word.

“_**MALFOY!**_”


	4. Merry-go-round [DRACO]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: evocation of self harm, violence

As soon as the door had slammed, Draco let himself fall slowly on the ground. His heart was pounding in his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. His head against the door, the coat dramatically spread around him, he did not move a single bit. Staring at the ugly wall of his apartment he let his thoughts free, circling in his head to the point he was not even being able to understand what he was thinking about. Everything was circling again, and again, and again. Over these obsessive thoughts, the look on Potter’s face was always coming back. Disgusted. Disappointed to see what his enemy had become. Draco was not even good enough to be considered a rival or a menace anymore. He had grown so weak that saint Potter was letting him alone in his own apartment, letting him keep his wand, letting him free. But after all, he had always been that weak. Because never, in his whole life, anyone had thought about sparing him some freedom for him to grow. Since his birth, he had been a worthless instrument in the eyes of his own father, and now that he was thrown away, he was even more useless than before. His father. Cursed be this person. He hated him. Oh did Draco hate him. But he could never call him anything else than his father because he was the person that made him who he was, _what_ he was. A coward. Selfish, hiding. And Potter saw that in him today, as he always did. It would only be stupid and hurtful for Draco to hope otherwise. After all, a chance was given to him. He could try to become a new person. To help people. To try to amend for what he did. But his father would know. He would find him. And he would make Draco his puppet once again. Draco was scared of the Dark Lord, but he had always feared his father more. Dark dots were dancing on the wall now. Draco was feeling light-headed, and he noticed that he had stopped breathing for a while now. Slowly coming back to his senses, he started getting conscious of his body again. Streams of silent tears were running down his face while his throat ached, as well as his whole chest. He took upon him to take a breath, and another one, and all the other ones after. It was always as unpleasant. Each breath taken felt like a missed opportunity to finally go. Go where? Who knew. He was too much of a coward to kill himself… or maybe was it strength? He thought of it as despair, the only thing keeping him alive was his will to live. A pointless, useless existence, but at least he felt like he had done all he did for _something_. If only he knew why it was. His head was spinning like a damn _merry-go-round_ – the only merry thing in his life – and it was still a struggle to breathe and calm down. He was so tired, so fucking tired. If Potter would lend him a charitable hand and kill him it would be extremely appreciated. But no. Saint Potter being… well… a saint, he had to save his life in the Room of Requirement. He could have let him to rot in the fire, but no, he had to _spare_ him. And now Draco wondered if sparing him might actually have been to let him die there. Slowly coming back to his senses, Draco was still sitting against his door. He was exhausted. So exhausted. He crawled onto his couch, thankfully close to the door thanks to the small size of the apartment. Now sitting on the much more comfortable surface, he ended up looking unconsciously towards the kitchen. He knew why. He could feel his left forearm itching. But he wouldn’t do it. He was even too exhausted to take his shoes off, let alone his coat. Making his way to the kitchen was impossible in his current state. His eyes were closing by themselves and he gave up, quickly going unconscious.

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“_**fOY**__**!**__**…**__** MALFOY! OPEN THE DAMNED DOOR!**_” Lour slams on the metal door were echoing in the whole room. As Draco was slowly waking up, he suddenly shivered, recognizing the familiar way to pronounce his name. Potter. A quick glance at the clock behind the couch. It was way past midnight. He had slept for a long time. Getting on his feet, he walked to the door, carefully, as if the door was one of these screaming books that you could find at Flourish and Blotts. Potter was slamming so hard on the door that it was vibrating. Draco considered ignoring him, but he was afraid that the noisy person slamming on his door might get him a noise complaint. He already had had trouble to find this apartment, he could not afford to get thrown out by his landlady. With a long sight, he went to unlock the door and a shiver of terror ran down his spine. The door was already unlocked. His panic attack earlier had distracted him enough that he had forgotten to lock the door. Anyone could have come in. Anyone could be there. Anyone could be right behind his back right now. It could be his father. Feeling himself falling in his spiraling thoughts for the second time that day, he bit his lips, trying to get a grasp on himself. In a quick gesture, pushed by the urge to get out of the now unsafe apartment, he opened the door, as he had forgotten the loud Gryffindor banging on his door. “_**MALF-OOF**_” Now he was remembering Potter’s presence. And as much as he was perfectly aware that he was probably a greater danger than the person that Draco’s paranoia was picturing in the apartment, he could not help but feel a little bit safer. Trying to act as if he had not run into the golden boy for the second time of the day, he quickly glanced at his attire. The way his tie was undone, his shirt and his pants crumpled, and that he was wearing his coat open, without a scarf despise the cold hinted that the boy who lived was not so sober at this very moment. “_**Potter… what a pleas-**_” the Slytherin never finished his sentence as he received Potter’s fist in the face. The ex seeker was still in a good shape, and he had put enough strength in his fist for Draco to fall onto the ground of his own apartment. He could have fought back, but he did not want to. And to be honest, he could never hit Harry Potter, nor hurt him anymore. He had done enough. Potter stagged over Draco, stepping in the light of the cheap light bulb hanging off the ceiling. He was clearly intoxicated, looking at Draco as if he was the lowest being that he had ever witnessed, but he couldn’t help but find him beautiful. No, not beautiful. Hot. And while part of his mind was going some very inadequate places, the part that was still rational was calling himself all sorts of names. How stupid did he have to be to have such a low notion of self-preservation? “_**Malfoy.**_” The rasp voice calling him was certainly not a good thing for him, and the hand that grabbed him by the collar to get him back on his feet was certainly not good news either. As the frowning Gryffindor was almost strangling him, Draco was struggling to stand properly. “_**Why?**__” _The sudden question took him by surprise. He looked back the emerald eyes of his persecutor, completely confused. “_**Why what?**_” In the way he looked at him he only saw anger and hatred. But deeper, Draco was feeling that there were much more than what was shown. “_**Why the fuck did you come back into my life. I want to know why do you find it so funny to torture me.**_” He did not know what to say. He never wanted to hear that. It was not in a million years his intention. But he was perfectly aware that it was his fault Potter was that way. After all, their meeting had had the same effect on him, so he could only imagine how Potter could have felt. “_**I am sorry.**_” His voice was muttered, he wanted to talk, but he could only whisper. “_**You are not sorry, don’t act as if you fucking care. You fought for **_**him**_**.**_” Draco could have replied. He could have tried to explain himself. But it would have changed nothing. The golden boy had come to his door for one thing only and it was not to talk. “_**I am sorry.**_” He was pushed on the couch brutally, Potter’s hand still on his throat. He was holding tight and it was hard for Draco to breathe fully. “_**I don’t want your excuses. You lost nothing in this. I lost everything.**_” On the last word, his voice cracked. His heart tightened. Harry’s eyes were filled with tears. “_**I lost everything.**_” A single tear rolled on his cheek, followed by many more. He was crying. Draco stayed silent for a while, not daring to breathe a word, avoiding the hostile emerald gaze upon him, before whispering. “_**I am sorr-**_” A scream. “_**SHUT UP!**_” The sight of Harry, crying, screaming, and looking at him that way was hard to bear. “_**I hate you Malfoy, I hate you so much. I really fucking wish you were dead.**_” Draco’s eyes widened. Knowing that harry despised him was a thing. Assuming that he would prefer him dead was another thing. But hearing it from his mouth was yet another kind of suffering Draco had never experienced yet. It was breaking him even more than anything else. Because as much as he ever tried to deny it, he loved Harry Potter. He loved him as he had put all his hopes onto him, as he had risked everything to protect him, as he had seen him do anything to save their world. He loved him. And as much as he was resigned to never be able to hold him, he had hoped that the hatred would eventually become indifference. And at this very moment, he was regretting that he had grabbed his had in the Room of Requirement. He should have jumped. He would not be hurting him if he had jumped. He would not be suffering if he had jumped. He started crying too, silently, without any emotion on his face. He was numb to everything, but his body was reacting for him. “_**I am sorry, I am so sorry Potter.**_” Harry was not even looking at him anymore, nor holding onto him. They were both crying, broken in various ways.

  
  


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Harry ended up dropping unconscious on Draco’s couch. With all the alcohol and emotions he just had, it was a miracle it did not happen earlier. Draco carried him to his bedroom. He was never using his bed. Since he was always too afraid that someone could get into his apartment while he was asleep, he always slept on his couch. So it felt less personal to lend his bed to Potter than the couch, in a weird way. Harry’s drunken sleep was not calm at all, he kept muttering unintelligible things and Draco did not even try to understand them. He just laid the Gryffindor on the bed, took off his shoes, covered him with a blanket, and shut the door. A quick trip to the bathroom revealed a huge hematoma on his cheekbone. It had been quick for it to develop, but Draco was not surprised, with his fair skin, the slightest bruise was immediately revealed. A bit of cold water on his face erased the dried tears from earlier in the day. Making his way back to the couch, he sat there, silent, emotionless. Since he had seen Potter for the first time in years that morning, he had already cried two times, got hit in the face, and got told that he would be better off dead. And while he was intimately convinced that he deserved all those things, it still was hurtful. Finally taking his shoes and his coat off, he unbuckled his belt and opened his shirt, trying to make himself comfortable. He had forgotten to grab his pajamas, and he would prefer to get chased by a dragon rather than to be near to Potter again that night. Enough had happened, for now, he did not need to create another chain reaction. His throat still ached. But he will care about that later, at this very moment, the only thing he wanted was to get some rest, before the morning.

  
  


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It was nine in the morning when a loud noise came from Draco’s bedroom. That noise was quickly followed by a voice, muffled by the door and erratic footsteps. It was still nine in the morning when Harry Potter stormed out of the room, with a horrified look on his face as he discovered his old enemy reading a book in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand. “_**Wh-what are you doing here?**_” Draco, still wearing his crumpled clothes, raised his eyes from the book to look at him, readjusting his scarf at the same time. “_**Good morning to you too Potter. Coffee?**_” Draco was hating himself for acting so casual, but at the same time, he did not know what else to do. And honestly, the look on the Gryffindor’s face was absolutely priceless. “_**… The fuck?**_” Draco sighed. “_**Very eloquent Potter, I am impressed. I reckon you don’t remember anything?**_” Passing his hand through his messy hair multiple times, Harry frowned. “_**No?**_” Draco closed his book, laying down his cup of coffee with a sharp noise. “**So…**_** You do not remember getting drunk last night, nor screaming my name while slamming at my door?**_” He was acting unbothered, but the sight of Potter, disheveled, coming out of his bedroom was quite the pleasant one. Trying not to laugh at the astonished face looking at him, he kept talking. “_**Oh do not worry, it was way less romantic than it sounds, especially since the second I opened the door, you proceeded to hit me in the face.**_” He pointed at the now purple mark on his cheek. “_**Then to scream on me, and then you fell asleep… Did I mention you were completely drunk?**_” Harry walked to the small table and dropped himself on the chair in front of Draco. “_**Well…**_” Raising an eyebrow, the Slytherin was desperately trying no to look to the slightly opened shirt and to keep his eyes on the face in front of him. “_**Indeed. Now I would love it if you stopped drinking for some time, my face did not like it very much. Coffee?**_” Without acknowledging Draco’s remark, Harry riposted with a question. “_**How can I be sure that you didn’t poison the coffee?**_” Draco rolled his eyes. “_**Because I’m drinking it?**_” Suspicious, Harry narrowed his eyes. “_**You could have poisoned the pot after pouring you a cup.**_” The blonde man had a long sight. “_**Do as you wish for all I care.**_” As he was opening his book to keep reading, Draco saw a hand reach to his cup. Raising his eyes on the man in front of him, he saw Harry drinking_ his_ coffee. In_ his_ cup. “_**I’m sure this cup is safe, at least.**_” Smirked Harry. Feeling his hurt thump, Draco stood up quickly to pour himself another cup._ Oh by Merlin I am reacting like a teenage girl, this is ridiculous_. “_**You are really annoying Potter, you know that?**_”_ Come on Draco, he hates you… he hates you._ “_**Did I say anything last night?**_” Sitting back on the chair, Draco responded. “_**Not much, the fact that you despise me, that I am a pain, all that jazz… you know, the usual.**_” He managed to say that with a detached tone of voice, while on the inside, Harry’s words were playing on repeat. Speaking of him, Harry was staying silent. “_**Potter?**_” He blew on his coffee, waiting for a response. “_**Why did you take care of me last night? After all, I hit you.**_” The blonde man rolled his eyes again. “_**By Merlin, Potter, is it so surprising that I am able to act like a decent human being?**_” He took a sip of his coffee, disappointed that Potter would thin so badly of him, but not surprised the slightest bit. “_**It is. What time is it?**_” Without even looking at him, annoyed for good, Draco pointed at the clock in a lazy gesture. “_**Sh-… I’m leaving.**_” Flipping the pages of his book, Draco hardly looked at him. “_**Suit yourself.**_” He heard Harry put on his coat, and his shoes in the adjacent room, then his steps coming back to the door. “_**You better behave while I’m gone Malfoy.**_” Slamming his book on the table, Draco finally looked at him. “_**As far as I am concerned, I’m not the one who should fix his behavior. Now get the fuck out.**_” Harry looked at him for a few seconds and then got out of the apartment without a word, closing the door behind him. Immediately, Draco stood up and went to lock the door. After that he let himself fall on the couch, tacking off the scarf that was way too warm for him. Placing unconsciously his fingers on the mark left by Harry’s, he whispered to himself. “_**What the fuck was all of that?**_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride month!  
And I created a twitter to vent about fanfictions and stuff so if you want to follow me it's @3am_magic !


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